


The Beat Drops

by Alacri



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Additional Warnings Apply
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-28
Updated: 2017-12-28
Packaged: 2019-02-23 04:14:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,267
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13182150
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alacri/pseuds/Alacri
Summary: It was supposed to be a simple mission: deliver a truck to Lumerico to restore power to the city. But even the best laid plans can be destroyed, and sometimes there's just nothing else you can do.





	The Beat Drops

**Author's Note:**

> PLEASE HEED THE WARNINGS. THIS IS A GRAPHIC WORK.

It was supposed to have been a normal mission. An easy one, at that, just transporting a truck to one of Lumerico’s buildings to help restore power to the area. Easy peasy. Junkrat had brought only his grenade launcher and some concussion mines, none of his heavy duty explosives had been on the drop ship because Winston, the fool, had claimed he wouldn’t  _ need  _ them. The thing was, none of what was happening should be happening.

 

They had divided into pairs before the attack started, working in teams to secure the area and prepare the truck for delivery. The truck itself was nothing special, a normal solar-powered hovercar awaiting movement outside the courtyard the ORCA had landed in. It should’ve been easy, bringing it across the small city. It really should’ve.

 

But now, Junkrat, already half out of the arsenal he’d brought with him was pinned down in a firefight with Talon. Lúcio, his partner, was crouched next to him, a bit scraped up but otherwise no worse for the wear, as they huddled in a small corner with barely any cover. Junkrat had set traps, but the Talon agents apparently had a sniper. Their shots could be heard ringing through the city at various intervals, promising death if either of them moved from their hiding spot. The streets that had seemed so safe were filled with shouting and absolutely swarming with teams of black-clad Talon soldiers. Winston and Soldier: 76 had theorized that Talon had more military might than they had let on, but this was absurd. They must have known Overwatch wouldn’t be prepared for them tonight.

 

In the darkness, Junkrat glanced over at Lúcio, who was focused on watching his back. The DJ, while experienced in riots from his home in the favelas, looked horrified. Junkrat couldn’t blame him, firefights were never fun, especially if you weren’t armed to the teeth like Junkrat normally was. All Lúcio had was his sonic amplifier, currently switched off to save battery and to avoid giving away their location with his music. It left him oddly quiet, something Junkrat wasn’t used to. Lúcio was usually loud and full of life, but now, huddled in the remnants of confetti and pi ñ atas, he just looked terrified. 

 

There was screaming in the distance as the sniper fired again, a booming crack that echoed through the eerily empty city. Citizens had been given a curfew tonight to avoid any trouble, so all Junkrat could do was assume that it was an Overwatch agent. He carefully stuck his head out of the corner they were stuffed in and could see the glow from Mercy’s caduceus staff in the distance. Someone  _ was  _ hurt.

 

Hearing a sniffle he turned around. Lúcio, still horrified, had curled into a ball, making himself as small as physically possible. Junkrat’s heart gave a pang, hating to see his friend so terrified. Lúcio had seen a lot in his time fighting for his home, but the amount of empathy he had towards everyone occasionally made it difficult for him to handle situations like this. Junkrat sighed and gave him a gentle pat on the pack, inadvertently smearing the previously clean sonic amplifier with soot.

 

“Don’t worry Lúci, she’ll be right.” Lúcio gave him a hopeful look, wiping his eyes with one gloved hand. Seeing Lúcio like this made Junkrat want to cry as well, he’d become attached to the DJ as time had gone on. Lúcio had made it his mission to befriend Junkrat the moment the ornery Junkers had made it to the Watchpoint, and after several fruitless attempts managed to get through to Junkrat. D.va, Lúcio, and Junkrat were practically inseperable at this point. 

 

“I really hope so.” Lúcio’s voice was quiet, but loud enough to be heard over the shouting and screaming. “I hate when people get hurt.” Junkrat couldn’t exactly relate, he’d grown up in the remains of the Outback where people regularly hurt and got hurt, but he knew Lúcio’s personal goal was to use his influence to help as many people as possible. Peeking out from their hiding spot again, Junkrat glimpsed a small church across the road. That had to be better cover than where they were now. Poking Lúcio gently, he gestured to their possible solace across the street.

 

“‘Ey Lúci, do you think that’s a good spot to hunker down? Has more places to hide than where we are now.” Lúcio stuck his head carefully out from behind the wall, hoping to hell he wouldn’t be spotted, to inspect the church himself. 

 

“Yeah.” He whispered, still gazing at the church. “That’s better than where we are now.” He moved to curl back up in the corner. Another crack from the sniper rifle rang out, much closer this time, and as Junkrat watched, horrified, Lúcio slumped to the ground.

 

Junkrat had never pegged himself as a crier. He’d been around when plenty of people had gotten hurt and died, it was unavoidable where he was from. But now, watching Lúcio, one of his best friends in the world, falling lifelessly to the ground, he burst into tears. It was entirely unexpected for him, but he couldn’t help it. He shrieked, voice cracking, and tried to drag Lúcio back into the spot they had been hiding.

 

There was more shouting as the Talon agents moved rapidly towards them, heavy footfalls giving them away as they ran over, guns at the ready. Junkrat felt his expression shift towards an ugly, involuntary snarl, and he raised his grenade launcher in preparation for a fight. He was going to give them hell.

 

A small squadron of Talon agents rounded the corner, and Junkrat was ready. Two were caught in his steel traps, quickly dispatched with well-aimed grenades. A third, looking horrified as his teammates were blown to singed chunks, tried to back up and was launched into the air, newly legless, by a concussion grenade Junkrat had placed on the floor when he and Lúcio had initially been trapped. He shrieked as a furious Junkrat lobbed another grenade in his general direction.

 

Turning back to his friend, Junkrat activated the communicator earpiece Soldier: 76 had forced him to wear, now glad he hadn’t taken it off the second they were alone. The channel was filled with chatter, apparently Tracer had been caught in the sniper fire. She would be fine, she’d have an ugly scar in her side- even Mercy’s nanites couldn’t heal that- but she would live. Desperately, Junkrat whispered into his earpiece.

 

“Oi, we need backup! Lúcio’s been shot.” The channel went oddly quiet, a lull in the conversation as everyone processed what Junkrat had said. He didn’t speak through the comms often (he hated them) and when he did it was generally for serious reasons.

 

“Shot where?” Mercy was the first one to say something, her voice careful and hesitant. It took Junkrat a moment to answer, rolling Lúcio over bodily to get a better look at what had happened. He froze, seeing the head wound bleeding sluggishly. 

 

“In the head. By the sniper.” His voice cracked as he spoke and he internally cursed. He hated sounding weak around teammates. Mercy’s gasp echoed through the comms system and Junkrat blankly stared at what was rapidly becoming a corpse as he faintly heard Soldier: 76 giving terse orders to hunker down and stay where he was. Junkrat gave a short, tense affirmative, sat down on the dirty, confetti-covered street, and cried.

 

It was several minutes before Mercy and her partner, Soldier, showed up. Soldier: 76 ran heavily down the street, pulse rifle in hand, as Mercy glided in her Valkyrie suit behind him. When they arrived, Junkrat had calmed down the point of sniffles. Mercy fired up her staff immediately, a soothing golden light filtering through the dark night as it attempted to right what was wrong with Lúcio’s body. He thanked his lucky stars that he wasn’t outright bawling anymore, although he felt the urge to start crying again as Mercy delicately inspected Lúcio’s wound. She stiffened when she saw the hole in Lúcio’s skull. The bullet wound was closing rapidly thanks to the caduceus staff’s help, but Lúcio wasn’t waking up. His eyes remained open, blank, and Mercy gently touched his face.

 

“Junkrat, I am not certain how much I can do,” Mercy gestured helplessly to Lúcio’s still form. “He has been shot in the head, even with my current medical technology I cannot rebuild an entire brain.” Junkrat froze again, sniffling stopping entirely as he stiffened with shock. 

 

“Are, are ya sure? Nothing?” His voice was croaky and weary. Gunfire echoed in the distance as the rest of the team finished fighting the remaining Talon agents, but none of it registered. Mercy sighed, placing one hand lightly on Junkrat’s shoulder.

 

“I am fairly certain. We can bring him back to the Watchpoint on life support, but other than that…” She trailed off, sounding absolutely exhausted. Junkrat sniffled again and nodded.

 

“Will it hurt him if I carry him?” Mercy shook her head, standing. Her usually pristine uniform was covered in a combination of blood and dirt from kneeling on the streets.

 

“Junkrat, he is not aware of what is going on. He may never be again. Nothing you do right now will hurt him, I promise.” Junkrat stood as well, hoisting Lúcio onto his scrawny shoulders where the RIP-tire would normally be. The wound was almost entirely closed by now, but blood still encrusted the majority of Lúcio’s face where it had dripped as the hole bled. 

 

By the time they made it back to the extraction point, the entire team was already there. The ORCA had landed in the small courtyard somehow, nearly crushing the fountain in the middle of it. Junkrat wasted no time climbing aboard the ship, gently laying Lúcio in the cot they kept at the back of it for times when an agent was hurt. Mercy hurried after him, shoes clicking on the ship’s floor as she rapidly approached the cot, staff emitting healing light all the while. Lúcio’s sonic amplifier was dark, leaving him looking especially lifeless.

 

D.va ran in after them, makeup smeared from crying as well. She stared blankly at Lúcio’s still form, just as horrified as Junkrat had been. She gently hugged him, despite the fact that he was unaware of his surroundings. 

 

The ride back to the Watchpoint was nearly silent. No one could bring themselves to talk with Lúcio unconscious in the back of the ORCA and hooked up to their emergency life support. Mercy, Junkrat, and D.va stayed by him the entire time, occasionally whispering amongst themselves in an attempt at comfort. The second the drop ship landed, Mercy rushed him into the medbay, waving everyone away from the doors with a hopeless expression. Only Soldier: 76 managed to bully his way in, on account of his rank, and Winston was consulted in hushed tones on what to do.

 

The visits started about a week later. Lúcio was still unconscious, eyes staring blankly into space. He was able to breath on his own, Mercy’s advanced equipment had made sure of that, but he had no way to eat or drink on his own. An IV hung from his wrist to keep him alive. 

 

Agents would make a habit of dropping by to see him when they could and gave him well wishes despite him not being able to hear them. D.va and Junkrat refused to give up hope, bringing flowers and gifts. Reinhardt would tell stories to responseless Lúcio at top volume, in case he could somehow be heard. Even Soldier: 76 stopped by several times, standing quietly in a corner, watching the room like a hawk.

 

After about a month, Mercy broke the harsh news. Lúcio would not be waking up. He had stopped being able to breath on his own a week ago, and had been placed on a ventilator. His brain had no chance of recovery. Eventually his body would give out. Widowmaker had done her job well, ending another life however slowly it might have been.

 

When the time came to pull the plug, the entire base showed up to mourn. They didn’t have the means for a fancy burial at the time, but they all made it a priority to wish him well as he passed. Junkrat and D.va were at the forefront of the group; Hana shamelessly crying and Junkrat’s eyes puffy and red as Roadhog stood stoically behind him . Reinhardt was bawling from the back of the room. Mercy gently removed the ventilator, and everyone stayed silent as he slipped away. A heavy shroud of sorrow fell over the room, and after a while, the team filtered out the door one by one, leaving Junkrat, D.va, and Mercy alone in the room.

 

It was about a month before they found Lúcio’s will while cleaning out his room. They had put it off as long as possible, but they simply couldn’t leave his things lying about in disarray. Junkrat and Hana spent that day sobbing together as they cleaned his room, made it a place to remember him by.  As the group picked delicately through his things, someone found the document in his desk. He’d left a letter, saying in the event of his passing he wanted his considerable wealth to go to supporting Overwatch’s recall. His possessions were left to various people on base, each close friend given at least one important token to remember him and cherish. It meant the world to everyone.

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by an incredibly horrific dream I had last night and I absolutely had to write it down. I hope I made at least a few of you cry, because I certainly did.
> 
> As always, comments/kudos/feedback are greatly appreciated! 
> 
> Find me at [smollestfox](smollestfox.tumblr.com) on tumblr.


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